Making A Change
by Darkened Shadows
Summary: Season 1 fic. What if, right before Sectionals when Rachel found out about Quinn's baby being Puck's, something made her not tell Finn? Rachel then decides that Kurt's makeover notion wasn't so bad and makes some changes. Rated T to be safe.
1. Change in Plans

**Disclaimer: (edit: forgot about this - oops!) I don't own Glee or any characters therein. Damn you, Ryan Murphy. (i.e. please don't sue)**

**Author's Note: My first Gleefic, yay! I'm kind of attached to Rachel. I relate to her, even though I'm not nearly that much of a diva. However, this idea popped into my head. I'm not sure yet if I want to make it Finchel or Puckleberry. Feedback to that end would be much appreciated. Please read and review!**

* * *

_Things that don't affect me don't always catch my attention. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's being the only child of two gay dads who give me too much of what I want and there is sooo much that I want. Maybe it's this insane career track I've put myself on. (Yes, even I am aware that my ambition is what others would call "insane".) Maybe… just maybe it's a coping mechanism._

_Anyway, ever since Mr. Schuester took over Glee Club, it's been amazing. We're a team and for the first time, it felt like I had friends. People who care if I get slushied, people who really notice my talent so that I don't need to bring their attention to me all the time…_

_But I was fooling myself. I may not always notice things that don't affect me but when I do, I'm pretty quick to know what's going on. When I mentioned Puck's actions when Quinn fell in the choral room, I could see them all, their eyes with that glint of "I know something you don't" and they lied to my face._

_I may be many things but I am not stupid._

* * *

Grape slushie. Again.

Rachel had been on her way to tell Finn about her discovery when the attack hit. She hadn't even had time to close her eyes and felt only slightly better that the purple liquid on her face hid the stinging tears that automatically flowed from her eyes. This happened every time – she didn't want to cry but it stung way down deep where her insecurities were locked in a box.

This was an omen. Don't tell Finn. Don't let emotions get the better of her. After all, Finn was so emotional that informing him would completely throw off the chemistry that hung by a thread in Glee as it was. With Sectionals quickly coming up, telling Finn that Puck was the real father was something akin to career suicide.

Closing her eyes to gather determination, Rachel quickly executed a 180-degree turn and strode into the girls' restroom. This had to be taken care of quickly before it had time to stain. If that happened, she would be hearing some nasty and guilt-wrenching words from Grandma Esther about the cashmere cardigan.

But she was so tired and everything hurt so much. She'd managed to sidetrack her feelings for Finn with that crush on Mr. Schue (what had she been thinking?) but every thought of the tall quarterback still burned with yearning and heartache. And now, she had a terrible secret she was now determined to keep. She had been willing to do horrifying things to keep the former cheerleader's pregnancy from the entire school, hadn't she? Things that her fathers would have been so very disappointed to hear about. This wouldn't be much different.

Even before that furtive argument in the choral room, Rachel knew that Puck was the father. She knew it the instant she brought up that Tay-Sachs was a Jewish disease, so Quinn's baby couldn't possibly have it. When that fear was still in her eyes, the same fear she remembered in her cousin's eyes, she knew it was true. And Noah Puckerman was the only Jewish male that Quinn would have had intercourse with.

It was so easy to see, once she actually paid attention.

Pulling the chair that was pushed to the far corner of the bathroom for exactly this purpose, Rachel sat down and craned her head back into the sink as if she was at Chez Julian's and anywhere but at this school. Chez Julian's was a salon in Cincinnati that her fathers like to take her to when she wanted to try out a new hairdo. LeRoy always said that it was best for a professional to style her hair in a certain style the first time around before she attempted to try it herself.

Passing a hand through her hair, her lips quirked into a ghost of a smile when she found no trace of the sugar water she'd been hit with. Her face followed, the easiest step of this cleaning process, and then her cardigan. Five minutes and one severely dejected expression later, Rachel had to admit that there were a few splotchy stains that just wouldn't go away with water. Closing her eyes at the failure, she quickly stripped off the cardigan, revealing the purple blouse underneath.

She would have to visit Grandma Esther before her fathers saw this. She could be hard to deal with but disappointment from her fathers was so much harder to deal with.

Rachel was still frowning at the article of clothing in her hands when the bell for sixth period rang. She was late – not the first time ever but the first time that year. She stepped out of the bathroom, fully intent on retrieving her books and getting a tardy slip from Principal Figgins when she saw him. Or them, rather.

Finn and Quinn were slipping into the algebra class they shared and they looked so… happy. It was a farce and a fallacy and her feet were already moving before she realized what exactly she was doing. She was leaving for today, never mind the Glee practice that afternoon. She was quite sure if she saw Finn again that day that she would tell him. Her emotions were running much too high.

"Miss Berry, school isn't out for the day yet."

Rachel looked up at the security guard that ensured that their closed campus did in fact remain closed. From the way he stilled suddenly, the congenial smile freezing on his face, she could tell that he could see the tears in her eyes. As it was, she was far too dejected to give him the megawatt grin that was her fallback expression. "I'm sorry, Bill. It's just—I just…" She trailed off, unable to think of an excuse that didn't make her look like such a Gleek loser.

"No, Rachel, it's okay." His voice was so soft and she found herself craving a hug. "Go ahead. I'll tell George not to tell Figgins."

Finally, Rachel could feel a genuine smile blossom across her face. "Thanks."

Her house was to the east but she started to the north immediately. It was the direction where her grandmother's senior living community center was. One of those places that was like a nursing home but for elderly people who could still take care of themselves. Besides, Esther always liked to add, it was near the synagogue.

* * *

Finn didn't want to admit it but he noticed Rachel's absence almost immediately. Well, upon entering the choral room, at least. He shared seventh period with her but he never really noticed her. He sat in the back and she was the kind of person to sit at the front but, oddly enough, she didn't draw attention to herself in the classroom. Not like she did in Glee.

But now, with everyone in the room, it was blaringly obvious. Most of them were even looking around the room, like there was some element that they were missing and they just couldn't figure out what it was. Mercedes and Kurt were whispering a mile a minute to each other and Finn could keenly feel that he was missing something even more obvious than the absence of their star player.

"So, Finn," a voice purred a little too softly or intimately or whatever, scaring the bejesus out of him. "How are you?"

The quarterback shifted in time to see that Kurt had sidled up next to him. The gay boy's presence was always a little disconcerting, even more than Rachel's, because of that… hunger in his eyes. He knew very well that Kurt had a crush on him, had for even longer than Rachel. However, it wasn't want in those eyes right now but something… searching? It made Finn very confused and irritated. Kurt was looking for something, something that was hidden to him.

Kurt spiraled his wrist in an odd gesture, a gesture he was sure Rachel could explain to him but that he didn't really get. "I meant, about Quinn. Everything… okay?"

"Sure." Finn shrugged his shoulders. "We're good." He frowned, feeling like he had just been handed the answer to the whispers that he'd just recently started to notice but that it was still out of reach. "Hey, do you know where Rachel is?"

Kurt flinched then, an expression so small and brief that he almost missed it. What did that mean? "Haven't seen her since lunch," he answered with a shrug, immediately standing and flouncing back to Mercedes's side.

Finn frowned deeply, trying to figure it all out. Where was Rachel? She was always here first – the only times she'd ever been late, he knew exactly where she was and what she was doing. Why didn't he know what everyone was whispering about? Looking to his side at Quinn, he smiled weakly at her.

And why did it all seem connected somehow?

* * *

Esther Berry was eighty years old, of sound mind and body, and her hardness could be traced back to her teenage years. Her entire family, which consisted of three children and two grandchildren, knew that she had been in one of the European detention camps but refused to talk about it. Sometimes it was like an elephant in the room but most of the time, they were content to pretend it never happened.

Many families coped in that fashion.

She was standing up from tending to her flower garden when she felt someone come up behind her. She tensed immediately, a very old habit of expecting a lash or another unexpected punishment, before she gentled her expression and turned to face her guest.

"Hi, Grandma."

Esther opened her mouth to ask why her oldest granddaughter wasn't at school when she noticed that she wasn't smiling. Rachel always smiled – it was one of the few things in the elderly woman's life that was nearly constant. Instead, she switched gears. "Rachel dear, what's wrong?"

The shorter brunette pulled a rose pink cardigan from behind her back that looked very familiar. Reaching out to grab it, the older woman immediately spotted the purple stains, causing her to close her hands into fists. "It happened again," Rachel clarified, oblivious to her grandmother's anger. "I thought you'd know how to get the stains out."

Relaxing marginally, Esther turned on her heel, making the same precise movements her own granddaughter tended to make. "Come on. I have some lemonade in the refrigerator."

Bouncing slightly, Rachel hurried ahead of Esther and opened the door for her, giving a clear example of the kind of manners that had been instilled in her very early. She proceeded to fix them both a glass of lemonade while Esther herself took a seat in her modest living room and attacked the cardigan with a moist cleaning wipe. Despite how she hated gimmicky brand names, even she had to admit that these Tide wipes actually worked.

"Are you going to tell me about it or stare at me all day?" she asked finally, feeling irritated the longer she felt Rachel's intense brown gaze on her movements.

"I got a slushie facial," she answered simply and shrugged.

"If you came here every time that happened, you'd hardly see your parents. Try again."

Sighing, Rachel took a seat opposite her grandmother. "Remember Finn and Quinn?"

"The quarterback and the pregnant cheerleader," Esther answered immediately with a small smile. The purple was lifting from the cardigan.

"Yes. And… this has to do with Noah as well."

The older woman looked up at her granddaughter. "Puckerman?" Rachel nodded. "That nice boy that sits near the back at synagogue? I don't much care for his haircut but he _is_ Jewish." She winked slyly at the brunette teenager.

Rachel giggled softly in that way that Esther knew she'd at least thought about it a couple time. "We tried, _bubbe_," she started, using the Yiddish term for 'grandmother'. "We were kind of hung up on other people."

"You with Finn," Esther said immediately, knowing as such from the girl's stories. Rachel blushed and ducked her head. "Noah and… Quinn?" The girl nodded shallowly. "Oh, my!" the elderly woman exclaimed after a moment. "That's scandalous!"

Rachel looked up, peeking at her grandmother from under the fringe of her bangs. "Yeah. You got that quick."

Esther leaned forward, finally finished with the cardigan. "I'm eighty, dear, and there's more in this world than high school scandals."

The brunette nodded, her expression fierce like she was trying to make herself believe that. "I almost told Finn but then this happened," she said, gesturing dismissively at the now clean article of clothing. "I figured it was a sign, to not tell him. At least not until Sectionals is over."

The elderly woman looked close at her granddaughter and saw how sad she still was. "There's something else, isn't there?"

Rachel swallowed thickly, looking off to the side before concentrating intently on her grandmother. "They hid it from me. I—I know this has nothing, _absolutely_ nothing to do with me… b-but everyone in Glee knew! I could see it! I know they don't like me but I didn't think they didn't like me this much."

Esther pressed her lips together to contain the bile that wanted to spew from her lips. She was angry and frustrated with how Rachel was treated at that school – her precious Rachel who could be a bit of a drama queen but was a very good and pretty girl – but she knew the girl would only take the blame into herself. She was so insecure, despite the brave and loud front that the world saw.

"I can't tell you that they don't dislike you. You wouldn't believe me even if it was true." Esther sighed and brushed back a lock of hair around Rachel's ear. "I can just tell you to do what you normally do – watch that silly show you like so much, skip being kosher until tomorrow, and it will probably look better in the morning."

Nodding, Rachel stood and smiled happily. "I will. Thanks." Leaning down, she kissed Esther's cheek and left as silently as she had come. The thought that that particular habit had formed because of the girl's need to be mostly invisible at the accursed school nearly made her scowl but she leaned back, focusing on how she had helped her instead.

It was days like this that the Holocaust and the terrible memories therein could not touch her.

* * *

Puck wasn't a complete idiot. He knew that Rachel Berry missing a Glee practice had to mean the world ended. Or, at least, _her_ world ended somehow. In fact – and a healthy level of pride filled him when he thought about it – he was probably the one person in this club that knew her the best… or at all. He had dated her for a week, not the most painful thing he had ever done, and had even had a couple run-ins with her dads.

So, after spending an appropriate amount of time looking reluctant to go home and making eyes at Quinn for an extra dose of satisfaction for irritating her, he left the school, driving the familiar route to the Berry residence on the nice side of town. Upon arrival, he noticed that most of the house was dark, except for Rachel's window on the second floor.

Her dads must be out.

Even though their relationship had been really short, he'd gotten into the habit of climbing up to her room, rather than going through the front door. Sneaking in was really more his style, he'd explained, but he'd kind of liked that she would let him in when her dads didn't know about it. With a heavy sigh, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that asked why he was the one that was checking on her, he turned off his truck and hopped out onto the scarily even gravel that was their driveway. Quiet, darting movements found him on the other side of the house and the tall elm tree that make it so easy to get up to his ex-girlfriend's window.

In no time at all, Puck was level with Rachel's room and peered into the flickering light that filled it. He frowned at the sight that greeted him. He had no clue what she was watching as the television is situated in the corner nearest the window. However, the girl he sought was curled up on her bed, her head pressed into the comforter and her hair behind her. She was clothed in a flannel pajama set and an untouched bowl of popcorn – which he knew she could make from scratch because she hated the microwavable kind – and a remote laid neatly in front of her.

He tapped on the window.

Her head shifted and her eyes pinned him instantly. She stared at him, her face completely expressionless, and then turned away. Her answer was clear in the only way Rachel would be without words. However, Noah Puckerman wasn't so easy to turn away.

He tapped on the window again, this time more insistently.

With a sigh, Rachel uncurled herself and walked to the window, unlocking it but not opening it for him. Turning back, she flopped back on the bed ungracefully, something that made him arch his eyebrow. Even in her own room, her every move tended to be measured and calculated, usually for effect or grace. Plopping just didn't seem to suit her.

Puck opened the window and slipped inside, sliding the window back into place and locking it back. He was very aware of how anal she was. He turned back to her, grinning. "Hey, Berry."

"What do you want, Noah?" She wasn't even looking at him, though, instead choosing to focus on the television. A sidelong glance showed him that she was running through a show – a canceled show – that looked vaguely familiar.

"What's this?" he asked, not answering her question and moving to sit on her bed. Had it only been a month ago that he had hung out here every day for a week? "It looks familiar."

"Firefly. It's about space cowboys." She lifted the remote and the screen froze on an image of a man and a teenaged girl about to be burned at the stake. Odd. "Answer my question."

He looked at her then, seeing that her face was still lacking any expression. It was weird. Her face was always so emotional – happy or sad or determined or angry. This was just wrong. "You weren't at Glee. What's wrong?"

Rachel blinked and he swore he could see pain flash across her face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Puck froze instantly, knowing what exactly she was asking about. It was the one thing he was keeping from everyone. "Who told you?" he demanded to know. "Mercedes?"

She laughed mirthlessly. "Don't worry, Noah. No one in the entire school likes me enough to give up their deep dark secrets. I figured it out on my own."

"How?" he asked, needing to know how self-obsessed Rachel Berry could have possibly figured out that he was the father of Quinn's baby bump.

"I told her about Tay-Sachs. Leon's wife had a scare with their firstborn."

_Jewish disease,_ he knew instantly. "That's why she was asking about the Jew baby tests." He looked sharply at her. "You're going to tell Finn, aren't you?"

"I was but I didn't." She smiled wryly. "It would kill our chances with Sectionals in two days."

Puck rolled his eyes. Leave it to Rachel Berry to think of her impending career above everything else. "Then why didn't you come to practice?" He sneered, trying to bury the panic and worry that having her know had caused. "That could have killed our chances too, don't you think? Having our star gone?"

She flinched visibly and he tried to rein himself in. Maybe he was lashing out at her again, hiding his internal pain with acid and bile. But he didn't know what to say, had no idea how to backpedal.

"Don't worry, Noah. I won't spill your little secret. I'll be at practice tomorrow. So, can you please leave now?"

He nodded numbly, feeling like there was something else he was missing even as he climbed out through the window. Knowing his secret shouldn't affect her so much, even if she felt compelled to protect him and Quinn. It made him feel like Finn, having the obvious answer in his hands but still not knowing what to make of it.

So, he waited and watched, feeling like even more of a jerk when the untouchable – at least emotionally – Rachel Berry cried herself to sleep.


	2. The Rising Tide of Depression

**A/N: Slightly shorter than the first chapter, oh well. Hope everyone enjoys! Please read and review!**

* * *

Grandma Esther was right. Things did look better the next morning.

Rachel was still curled into a protective ball when she woke to the dawn light just before her alarm and noticed that her bowl of untouched popcorn was gone and she was covered with the duvet that normally decorated the end of her bed. Despite Kurt's attempts to undermine her appeal to Finn a couple weeks past, he did have a point. Her room did resemble some ill-dreamed tableau where Strawberry Shortcake and Holly Hobbie came to hook up.

That was mostly her fault. She hadn't redecorated her room since that phase she went through when she was eight. Since then, she sort of let it be, consoled in the fact that no boy willingly would spend time in her room. Now, in the last month, three boys had. Granted, she admitted begrudgingly, one of them was gay but that didn't matter. In fact, he was the one to take the most offense at the color scheme.

Maybe Kurt could help.

She closed her eyes, blocking out the distinct memory of why no one in Glee was her friend. She wasn't going to be asking as a friend, anyway; she just needed an interior designer. And Kurt Hummel was the most fashion-conscious person she knew.

That was all. She didn't need friends. Just like any attachment she'd ever made, it only hurt in the end. She hadn't needed a friend when she ended things with Noah, even though the fact that he hadn't had room to love her still stung at times, and she didn't need friends now.

Oh, yeah, she didn't need friends like she didn't need to be a rising star on Broadway.

Two hours, which had consisted of an intense workout regimen and her moving restlessly around her room to remove everything from her walls, found her in front of the high school, adorned in dark denim jeans and a black V-neck tee. The darkness of the outfit matched her mood and her schoolgirl outfits were often too pastel for how she felt at this moment. On the plus side, she could also test the outfit to see if it could keep her from getting a slushie to the face.

Her attention was caught by a crowd near the dumpster. Shifting her focus, she looked intently at the people there. There were a lot of football players – not a surprise – and Kurt. Just who she needed to talk to… but were they about to…?

Drawing up the determination that made so many people think she was crazy, she took long strides over to her fellow Gleek. While she had heard many stories about the geek dumpster-diving, she had never seen it happen personally. Her experiences with bullying were limited to the female variety – stinging barbs from the Cheerios that made her realize how much words can hurt – and the slushies, of course.

"Kurt!" she called out loudly.

The teenaged boy shook his head vehemently, obviously not wanting to draw her into this particular form of bullying. He flicked his eyes toward the door, trying to direct her with his eyes in a way he couldn't with words.

"Berry!" one of the jocks called out. "You look normal for a change."

She rolled her eyes, injecting the expression with as much good-naturedness as she could manage. "Thanks. I'm trying something new." She smiled brightly, toning down her show smile to look sincere and sweet. "I've got to borrow Kurt for a while. I hope you don't mind."

"Rachel, don't," Kurt hissed softly. "They'll do it to you too."

However, the football players looked back and forth between each other in confusion. Except for the slushies, they generally didn't mess with girls – that was Cheerio territory. "I guess it's okay," a big black jock started uncertainly.

Another football player rolled his eyes, one that Rachel identified as the one that terrorized Kurt most of the time. "Whatever. We'll get you later, homo," he ground out before walking away.

The "homo" in question turned on Rachel, guarded and angry in a way that she tried not to take to heart. After all, interfering in this way could only mean something worse later. But if she didn't do this now, she would lose her nerve. "What did you do that for?" Kurt demanded. "I could have handled it. I do almost every day."

"I know," Rachel answered quietly, halfway drawing back into the protective shell that formed whenever she felt hurt. "I just wanted to ask something of you. I need your help."

He rolled his eyes, raising his hand in his signature move of resituating his hair. "What could the great Rachel Berry possibly need of me?"

She closed her eyes, pushing away the automatic reaction of lashing out at his tone. Maybe with changing her room and her clothes, she should change some of her attitude. After all, the Gleeks were vocal enough about it that she knew which of her mannerisms were abhorrent. Which was to say, almost all of them.

Twisting her hands nervously, which showed way too much of her current emotions, Rachel took a breath. "I wanted to redecorate my room. I thought… After the Finn thing, I thought you might say no."

"Me?" Kurt's voice had instantly softened and he sounded distinctly… shocked. Rachel peeked up at him through the fringe of her bangs. A smile was growing across his face. "You want me to redecorate your room?"

Rachel nodded. "I thought it would be a nice change."

He arched an eyebrow, eyes pointedly pinning her outfit. "Changing a lot of things?"

She shrugged and turned around to walk away. "It's time."

* * *

"Chicky?" Kurt asked when he walked up to Mercedes at her locker, for once not smelling like school garbage. Can you say, ick?

Mercedes looked up at her friend. "Hey. What's up?"

"Something weird just happened."

She arched an eyebrow, grinning softly, and closed her locker. She led them toward the choral room where Mr. Schuester wanted to have a day-before-Sectionals pep talk, something that would likely occur again that afternoon. "What?"

"Rachel asked for my help."

Mercedes immediately scoffed. "With what? I though you said that makeover turned into a disaster."

"Well, it was. I mean, that might have been my fault a little bit. When I heard her talk about Finn, I might have… sabotaged her a little."

Mercedes shook her head, her smile becoming sympathetic. "Boy, you have got to get over that crush. And if Miss Thang made a fool of herself, it's her own fault."

Kurt looked over at the black teenager, his eyebrow arched neatly. "I don't know. She was different."

She only shook her head again. "I'll believe it when I see it."

With that, they turned into the choral room. Kurt realized they were the first ones there, even though he knew that Rachel was marched into the school ahead of him and her locker was scarily close to this room. So close that he sometimes wondered if she'd maneuvered it that way when she enrolled.

She wouldn't miss another meeting, would she?

* * *

Rachel paced in front of Emma Pillsbury's office, the eyes scanning the halls for the petite guidance counselor. She was pretty easy to spot with her ginger locks and fashion sense that was just as… unique as Rachel's own. She was talking to Mr. Schuester just down the hall. They looked so happy, just talking. It was so easy for them, even if Rachel could sense their sexual tension from a mile away.

The last few months had taught her a few things. Even though Mr. Schue could be cruel (at least, in the diva, it's-all-about-me part of her mind), he was almost the nicest person she'd ever known. Miss Pillsbury's germophobia had less to do with disgust and more to do with severe OCD. Almost everyone in Glee could sing like angels but they were infinitely lazy. It was the truth, a brutal truth that most of them didn't want to see, but Mr. Schuester was too nice, too gentle with them.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel stopped and leaned against the glass wall that covered Miss Pillsbury's office. She had already tested the door – it was locked. Staring down at her feet clad in dark Nikes, she tried to conjure all her diva mantras – she was a star, they would all regret treating her so badly, a true star doesn't need friends – but it all fell flat. In fact, each attempt only served to make her feel worse.

"Rachel, are you okay?"

She lifted her head to find the scrutinizing gaze of both Miss Pillsbury and Mr. Schuester. She looked utterly concerned but he looked torn between the same concern and the call of the choral room. So, Rachel pasted her signature overly bright smile on her face to appease him. "I just wanted to talk to Miss Pillsbury for a minute. I'll be at the meeting, I promise."

Thankfully, he nodded and turned away, striding quickly to the room. As soon as his back turned, all the bright emotion drained out of Rachel's face, leaving her sad and empty. She sniffed softly, an involuntary reflex to the emotions building in her chest. Not even Mr. Schuester, who should see and appreciate her bright star most of all, could be bothered with her as long as she did her part.

"Rachel, sweetie, what's wrong?" Miss Pillsbury asked in an oddly maternal tone. It took a couple seconds for the Jewish girl to realize that she was crying again. The guidance counselor quickly unlocked her door and ushered the girl inside, pulling a Kleenex out of the box on her desk.

She managed to get herself under control pretty quickly. Even if this protective shell caused her to lose some control over her emotions, she still had her acting instructor's grating voice inside her head. "What does it feel like to have a friend?"

Emma sat back in her chair, her forehead crinkling in confusion. "You have friends," she started softly.

"No, I don't!" Rachel snapped instantly. "No one in Glee likes me. They're like all the girls I used to compete with, pretending with a smile to my face so I don't see them trying to sabotage me." She closed her eyes, remembering some of the close calls she'd had over the years before she learned that trusting others was not a good attribute. "Maybe they don't cut holes in my dance outfit or file down my heels so I'll trip during a number but they're not my friends."

Each word hit the older woman like a brick, allowing her to see a new layer of Rachel Berry. "Girls did that to you?" she asked in a small voice.

Rachel opened her eyes, looking at the shocked woman before her. "All the time. It started getting serious around the time I was three. Sometimes it might not have been the other girls." She took a breath, remembering how many different ways the sing-and-dance circuit had caused her to mature. "Sometimes it was their mothers."

"Have you talked to anyone?" Emma leaned forward, her face deadly serious. "This can be seriously damaging and I'm not a professional, Rachel."

"I have a therapist," she answered softly. "My dads think I see him for what I call my diva complex. I haven't seen her since the school year started." The truth was that Rachel usually worked through most of her problems with Dr. Jones but her problems at high school just seemed so… insignificant.

With this piece of information, Emma straightened and smiled brightly at the girl. "Then it's settled. You need to see her today, before Sectionals tomorrow." She pinned her with a congenial but piercing gaze. "I'll know if you don't."

That knocked Rachel off-balance. "But… Glee and then… I think Kurt might be coming over."

Emma arched an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't have any friends," she pressed.

The brunette's spine stiffened. "He's helping me redecorate my room. I almost had to beg." After a moment, the diva front deflated. "I think. He didn't actually say yes."

"I'll talk to Will. It's not like you need the practice." She smiled, trying to convey the sincerity of her compliment.

"I always need practice." Rachel stood then, smoothing her hand over her thighs in a movement that belied her tendency for skirts. "I'm late. Excuse me."

* * *

Following the morning meeting, in the ten minutes they had before classes started, Rachel pulled Will to the side and talked to him quietly. He smiled the same smile he gave to all the students but she could see it was strained – maybe it was the problems he was having at home, maybe it was the concern he had for the Sectionals, or maybe he was as averse to talking to her as everyone else seemed to be.

Closing her eyes, she smiled brightly but apologetically. "I'll be missing practice again. I'm sorry."

He sighed instantly and she knew he was about to go lecture-mode on her. "Rachel, Sectionals is tomorrow. We have to be perfect. No, more than perfect, we have to be phenomenal."

"Yes, I know. I'm going to skip lunch and practice the choreography and songs in the auditorium and I'll be practicing at home tonight. I just… I can't come, okay?"

His forehead crinkled in confusion, scarily similar to Emma's expression earlier. "Why?"

Rachel swallowed thickly and hope to God that none of the Glee kids that were still loitering would hear her. They didn't need any more ammunition against her. "Miss Pillsbury said I have to see my therapist today, no exceptions."

Will's eyes widened. "Is something wrong?" He reached out to touch her shoulder consolingly.

Her eyes immediately turned cold and she took a step back. "Mr. Schuester, I know you're way too nice to everyone and much better at Glee than Sandy Ryerson." At the mention of his name, she scowled slightly. "But let's not make liars out of ourselves. Outside of this room, no one cares what I do. Especially you. So, don't pretend that you care about me." With that said, she turned on her heel and walked quietly away, leaving a very confused teacher behind.

* * *

"So, I was thinking we'd go to your house after practice," Kurt began as he sidled up to Rachel just as the lunch break began.

Rachel half-turned to look at him as she shoved a textbook into her locker. "No good," she told him. "I won't be at practice."

He arched an eyebrow. "Again?"

"That's right." She dug into her locker for her small notebook and jotted her address down with a ballpoint pen. "Here's where I live. You can find it okay, right?"

Kurt nodded numbly, stowing the bit of paper in his satchel. "What about practice? It's not like you to miss, not so close to Sectionals."

Gritting her teeth, she seethed softly and closed her locker door much too calmly. "What is it you're worried about? My singing or my choreography? Because, trust me, I practice both more than anyone in Glee can fathom." She pinned him with a chocolate brown stare. "And I am well aware that my presence has little effect on morale."

"Whoa there, drama queen. I'm just worried, that's all. You're acting… different."

Rachel sighed, pressing her hands up against her temples. "I know. I just… have an errand to run for my dads. It's kind of important." She attempted a gentle smile. "I'm sure practice will be far more enjoyable with me there." That said, she walked in the general direction of the auditorium and left Kurt with a bemused expression and questions that he didn't want to ask.

Staring after her until she disappeared around the corner, Kurt tilted his head slightly. Rachel had been distinctly self-recriminating, something she never was. If anything was ever true about that diva's behavior, it was that she believed herself free of all blame. In fact, if he was truthful with himself, the fact that she initially missed practice the day before was somewhat suspect. It was the day they had decided to keep Babygate, the mess that was Quinn's expanding womb, from the Jewish girl.

What if she had found out? Worse, what if she had realized that everyone in Glee (aside from Finn the Oblivious) knew as well?

Most importantly, why hadn't she told Finn?


End file.
